Dying to Remember
by Aurora Lenore
Summary: The 6th and final book in my "Egg-cellent Adventure" series. When Bianca finds herself entangled in a web of deceit and murder, the only people who can help her put the pieces back together are the two people who no longer remember her. Will fate intervene and save Bianca in time, or will Balki and Larry become the next victims of a war they cannot recall fighting in?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"So tell me what you've been up to! I haven't seen you in forever," Bianca Pierson exclaimed as she pulled her old friend Bryan Ogden inside the door. He hadn't changed a bit since she knew him as a child: same strawberry blond hair, freckled face and emerald green eyes. He had even managed to stay thin after more than fifteen years. Although Bianca had only been twelve and Bryan sixteen when he left, it felt as if they had only been apart for a few months.

Bryan sat down on the sofa and smiled. "I do a bit of construction when I'm not playing video games. So, how's Henry? I heard he wasn't quite as dead as everyone thought?"

"He's okay. My sick and twisted cousin Jacob had him prisoner for quite some time, but thankfully, that's all over. Now I'm just trying to be normal, working on inventions when I'm not busy with web design," she told him.

"Yeah, the girl who builds robots out of nothing and creates time machines and other strange mechanisms trying to be normal," he laughed. "How's that working out for you?"

Bianca smiled but it soon faded as she saw her laptop's screensaver kick on, showing a photo of Larry Appleton and Balki Bartokomous smiling with their arms around each other. She had only been without them in her life for a couple of weeks and she missed them terribly. But she knew leaving them was the right thing to do. After all, she was only destroying their lives. She flinched as she remembered using the Selective Memory Eraser gun on them, causing them to forget her very existence. It was drastic and quite possibly desperate, but it had to be done. Unfortunately, she was unable to use the device on herself, partially because she didn't want to and partly as punishment. She couldn't allow herself to make the same mistakes over again. She needed to remember what dragging strangers into her life meant. Two more people were already paying that price: Greg Kitchens, her grandfather's apprentice, and Serge, the flamboyant art dealer from Beverly Hills. Thankfully, she wasn't in love with either of them as she had been with Larry. But Larry had a girlfriend and making him choose was asking too much of him. Especially with all Bianca had put him through. Poor Balki had just been caught in the middle of it all.

"Hello? B?" Bryan asked, waving his hand in front of her face.

Bianca blinked and looked at him. "Whoa. Sorry. I totally spaced out for a minute."

Bryan brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Bianca pushed Larry, Balki and all bad thoughts out of her mind, turned off the screensaver feature and grinned. "Just thinking of how things in my life are just going to keep getting better and better. Especially now that you are here again."

* * *

"Who _is_ that little muppet and why is he _here_?" Serge whispered from the top of the staircase as he and Greg watched the scene below.

"Aw, Serge, if I didn't know you, I'd say you were jealous," Greg teased before turning serious. "Saw him in a photograph at Henry's before he was kidnapped by Jacob. The name is Bryan Ogden; friend of the family and I think he was actually Valeena's stepbrother or something. Left when he was sixteen to go with his dad somewhere. Like most people, Bryan pretty much worshipped Henry. Henry was pretty fond of the little pipsqueak too."

"Aw, Greg, if I didn't know you, I'd say you were jealous," Serge shot back.

"Not jealous because of his 'reunion' with Bianca so much as not really wanting to share my apprenticeship. Bryan better not try to worm his way into helping Henry with his inventions. That's my territory. I just can't help but wonder why he came back into town _now_?"

"Maybe Henry thought Bianca needed an old friend after the disaster with the cousins from Ye Olde Chicago."

Greg shook his head. "Henry doesn't know what she did yet. I haven't spoken to him since it happened. Once again, he has dropped off the grid."

Serge gasped. "Do you think he's been kidnapped again?"

Greg gave Serge a double-take. "Will you not say that? I highly doubt it, though. Henry has been known to lock himself away when building a new invention and extinguish all contact during as such."

"Well, then there is only one thing you need to do," Serge said promptly.

Greg looked at him. "What's that?"

"Go say hi," Serge winked before literally pushing Greg down the stairs. Greg grabbed the banister before he tripped and fell, but not before Bianca and Bryan spotted him. When Greg looked back upstairs to give Serge the evil eye of doom, he had disappeared._ Oh, you're gonna get it for this,_ Greg growled inwardly before turning back around and smiling. "Hello. Who is your new…friend, Bianca?"

"Bryan Ogden, this is Greg Kitchens. Greg, Bryan was Valeena's stepbrother," Bianca beamed.

"I'm sorry about Valeena. She was a great woman," Greg cleared his throat.

Bryan nodded. "Yeah, she was. So, B tells me you work for Henry now. Isn't he amazing?"

"Yeah, he is," Greg agreed. _When he's around, that is_, he added silently.

Suddenly, Bryan stood up and stretched. "Well, I need to go back to my new place and unpack."

"Oh, you're _staying_ here!" Greg cried out, hoping he didn't sound too surprised.

Bryan nodded again. "Yeah. I'm working for a guy around this area. What he has me doing for him could take a while to finish, so I thought I'd take up residence for awhile. You got a pen and paper?"

Greg walked to his table by his phone and ripped out a sheet of paper and grabbed a pen out of the drawer. "Here you go."

Bryan scribbled down something quickly and handed it to Bianca. "This is where I'm staying. Feel free to come by anytime, B," he told her before hugging her. "It's really good to see you again."

"Good to see you, too," Bianca repeated, returning the warm embrace.

"Well, nice meeting you, Greg," Bryan walked over, shaking his hand. "Hopefully next time I can meet your partner Serge."

"Uh, Serge is _not_ my partner," Greg corrected sternly.

Bryan nodded once more, but this time, it was a slow 'whatever you say' nod. "I'll call you," he said to Bianca before he left.

"_That_ was Valeena's stepbrother?" Greg asked, eyebrow raised as he watched him drive off.

"Yep. I had a huge crush on him when I was younger. It's so good to see him again. I needed a distraction," Bianca replied, chewing on a strand of her hair.

"Speaking of distractions," Serge called out behind Greg, causing him to jump. "Someone needs to go to the store. You're out of leh-mons, _partner_."

Greg gave Serge a look so cold, it would have frozen the equator. "Buy your own damn leh-mons, you coward."

Bianca giggled. "I'll go to the store. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone."

As soon as Bianca left with a list Greg had made, he turned on Serge and shoved him. "You do what you did upstairs again and I will _hurt_ you; got it?"

"You really should lighten up, you know? You're so stressed out," Serge replied before running back upstairs before Greg could grab him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_In present day, 2014..._

Larry Appleton's hand flew out from the bed and frantically slapped at his alarm clock on the nightstand. Surely it wasn't-

"Good morning, Cousin!" Balki Bartokomous' voice called out cheerfully as he bounded into the room.

Dammit, it _was_ morning. He _hated_ mornings. "Balki, did you make the coffee?" he mumbled, his face still buried in his pillow.

"Well, of course I did, don't be ridiculous. I also set out your vit-a-mins, your blood pressure pill, arthritis pill, cholesterol pill and your fiber pill in a neat little line on the counter."

Larry moaned and slowly rose from the bed, scratching his thinning hair. Glancing in the mirror, he stuck his tongue out to check and make sure it wasn't a funny color. "I miss being a handsome twenty-something bachelor," he said to his reflection. Not that he looked terrible other than he was a few pounds heavier, had a few more wrinkles, more grey and a receding hairline. Even Balki was beginning to show some signs of age, although he hadn't gained weight or gone grey. Just a few wrinkles around his face (laugh lines) and a small bald spot on top of his head. He still couldn't believe how both their worlds could have changed so much since nineteen eighty seven. He still remembered it like it was yesterday. He had been so eager for his girl Jennifer Lyons to come home from her Canadian trip. Balki was just as excited for her best friend and _his_ girlfriend Mary Anne Spencer to return, as well. However, just three weeks before they were to return, they both worked a flight to Bermuda and were never heard from or seen again. Reports claimed that the plane had lost communication over the Bermuda Triangle and the plane, its passengers and crew disappeared. Balki and Larry had both been devastated, but time had managed to heal their wounds. The two men had since dated wonderful women, but neither of them came close to getting engaged or married.

"Cousin, are you coming?" Balki called from the kitchen. "Your oatmeal is getting cold."

Larry sighed and walked into the kitchen, grabbing his coffee and taking a long drink. "Balki, other than the fact that our apartment has been remodeled and we've gotten older and wiser, not much has changed for us. We still work at the _Chronicle_, we're still roommates, we've never changed our phone number and you still sleep with Dimitri."

"And you still have a nervous breakdance at least once a day, you still carry your clipboard around like it's a Bible and you still drink your antacid from the bottle," Balki counted. "I like this game. How many more things can you think of that I still do?"

"Balki, it's not a game. We're in a rut. We've been in a rut since I can remember. Speaking of which, I'm still annoyed by the fact that I remember my fifth birthday, my first Christmas as the Christmas Boy, getting ditched at my senior prom, meeting you, and when Jennifer went to Canada, but I can't remember other important things. They say the mind is the first thing to go and boy, they weren't kidding around."

Balki cocked his head to the side, "Cousin, I thought it was hearing was the first thing to go."

Larry looked up at him after taking a bite of his oatmeal. "What?"

"Never mind, Cousin. My memory bank has been withdrawn, too. When Mary Anne was in Canada, she called and told me something important, but I can't remember what she say. She say, 'Balki, I have something important to tell you', but then my mind walks a plank."

"Come to think of it, there are a lot of things I don't remember about when they went to Canada. Maybe I blocked it out because it was too tragic for me. I really did love that woman," Larry said thoughtfully, his mind going back to nineteen eighty-six. He remembered the first time he laid eyes on her at The Ritz. She had stopped by because Balki had forgotten to sign a form for the gym. Larry, wanting to impress her, also signed up, pretending he was practically a bodybuilder. Unfortunately, for both he and Balki, they paid the price when neither one of them could barely move after over-doing it. Looking back on that moment, Larry realized that was just a slice of all the stupid things he had done over the course of their time together to impress her. Why couldn't he meet a girl he didn't feel the _need_ to impress? Why couldn't he find a woman with whom he felt completely relaxed and safe with? Surely, there had to have been one, but he couldn't remember.

"Cousin? Your mind walked off and left you standing there again, didn't it?"

Larry jumped and realized that Balki was standing right beside him. "Balki, don't scare me like that! You know I have a weak heart!"

"Sorry, Cousin, but I just got off the phone with Napoleon. He wanted to know what we want for lunch, so I say we wanted Yu So Fat Chinese. Is that okay?"

Larry nodded. "That's one thing that's changed. I love having a personal assistant."

Balki shook his head. "Cousin, he's only a wimp. We have him as personal assistant for only a month because Mr. Wainwright is recovering from heart surgery."

"Balki, I think you mean he's a temp and I know we only have him until Mr. Wainwright comes back. But it's still fun to have a little minion run errands for us."

Balki's eyes grew wide. "Cousin, Napoleon has a minion? Like the ones in _Despicable Me_?"

Larry put his empty dishes in the dishwasher and looked at Balki. "Yes. But no one has ever seen them."

* * *

Napoleon Webber panted as he ran inside the_ Chicago Chronicle_ building, trying not to drop the bags of food and drinks he was carrying. Of all the days for traffic to be at a standstill and parking to be full, why did it have to be today?

"You're ten-no, eleven-minutes late," an annoyed voice said, causing him to screech to a halt.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Appleton. Traffic was terrible and the parking was-"

"I don't have time for your excuses, Napoleon. Did you get our orders right this time?"

"Uh, I think so. I have the receipt somewhere in these bags," he fumbled around, nearly dropping the drink carrier.

"Oh, Napoleon; you shouldn't be carrying all those bags and drinks," another, kinder voice spoke up, taking the carrier and one of the bags from him.

"Thank you, Mr. Bartokomous," Napoleon sighed, glaring at his meaner counterpart.

"Now, Napoleon, if I tell you once, I tell you twice; call me Balki."

Napoleon smiled and ran a hand through his thick black hair. "Okay, Balki. Anything else you or Larry want from me?" he asked, silently praying the answer would be no.

"Well, first off, you can call me Mr. Appleton," Larry told him like a teacher disciplining his student, "and second of all, you can run these files up to Mr. DeVry's office in distributing."

Napoleon grunted as Larry handed him at least thirty files filled to the max with various papers, photos and discs. "Sure thing, Mr. Appleton. And I hope you choke on your fortune cookie," he muttered under his breath as he took the elevator.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Serge waited patiently until Bianca had gone to run a few errands before he pounced on her laptop and ran back upstairs to Greg's room. The time had come for he and Greg to see exactly what was on that DVD she had refused to watch. "Greg, I now you're in there…alone. Come out because there is something I have to show you," he called as he knocked on the door.

Greg poked his head out. "I'm not talking to you," he barked before starting to slam the door in his face. Serge stuck his foot in before the door closed, however, and let himself in.

"Look, I don't care that you are mad at me right now. There's something I need you to see. I tried to tell you earlier, but now I'm going to tell you while there are no interruptions. Miss Bianca found a DVD at her grandfather's house addressed to her before she did the horrible erasing thing. She keeps going back and forth on deciding whether to watch it, but I think we should end her suffering and watch it _for_ her," he told him.

Greg popped open the DVD tray on the laptop and looked at it. "Hmm. It says 'The Truth: Watch Alone'. If I had to guess, I'd say it means she should watch alone."

Serge sighed. "Leave it to you to take the print for what it's worth, which is absolutely nothing. Miss Bianca says she found it at her grandfather's house by accident. He had it hidden, so he obviously didn't want her to find it. So, shouldn't we free her from that burden? After all, the poor woman has been through enough with what ruining dreams and erasing memories and such."

Greg scratched his head. "Wait. She said she found it by accident and Henry was _hiding_ it? That's weird that you would say that. I was over at his place a few weeks ago and he had a package on the coffee table. It was the perfect size for a DVD and when I asked him about it, he seemed to get tense and fidgety. Said it was nothing, but wouldn't let me near it. I wonder if that was one and the same?"

"We'll never know if we don't watch," Serge replied in a sing-song voice before slamming the tray shut and sitting down at Greg's desk to watch it.

Greg pulled up a chair beside him. "I cannot believe I am doing this," he muttered.

Serge shushed him as he pushed play and a picture of Bianca's now dead cousin Jacob appeared, seated in a library of sorts.

"Jacob?" Greg asked, his jaw dropping open.

"Hello, Bianca," Jacob began somberly. "I know I am possibly the last person you wanted to ever see again, but there are some things you need to know. You need to know that your grandfather has been lying to you about everything: who you are, where you came from…even your family. Your name isn't Bianca Simone Pierson. Your real name is Callie Leigh Mason from Des Moines, Iowa. Henry's real name is Phillip Wayne Mason. When you were four years old, Phillip adopted you after your parents, Linda Grey-Mason and Phillip Mason Jr. perished in a house fire. Unfortunately, your grandfather had a bit of a gambling addiction. He owed a lot of money to a lot of people and they threatened to kill him. So he built his first working time machine, found a family who had an elderly man and his infant granddaughter missing in nineteen eighty-six and he took you to them, four years later in nineteen-ninety. Amazingly enough, he resembled this Henry Aloisius Pierson and was able to pass you off as young Bianca. I always found it odd that the family mentioned that before Henry went missing, he never tinkered with inventions or machines. So, when I was taken away from my mom, I did some digging. That's where I discovered the truth. I know you may not believe me, but after this video, there will be some geneology websites that prove the truth, including your birth certificate and a photo of you as a baby and the original Bianca Pierson who went missing. So the truth is, not only is your name really Callie Leigh Mason, but you were really born in nineteen sixty-five. You should be quite a bit older. But you look wonderful for your age," he laughed before he began coughing. "Henry doesn't want you to find out the truth because he has lived this lie for so long, he knows you'll be devastated. But you need to know the truth. There are people who will do whatever it takes for you to never see this, but I have made copies in hopes that somehow, you will learn the truth. Goodbye, Callie. And good luck."

Serge clicked the stop button on the player and stared at the screen for a minute in silence. This was certainly not what he had imagined. He had assumed perhaps she had been left millions or there was a planet named after her. Not this.

Suddenly, Greg snatched the DVD out of the player angrily and stood up so fast, he knocked his chair over.

"Where do you think _you're_ going with that?" Serge asked, still in shock.

Greg waved the DVD in the air. "I'm going to Henry, possibly also known as Phillip Wayne Mason Senior to get some _answers_!"

As soon as he left, Serge stood up and sighed. "Oh, that's not gonna be good. Not at all."

* * *

"Henry! Open this door right now!" Greg pounded on his door as soon as he took the time machine to his house.

Henry answered in his bathrobe and looked around. "Okay, okay, Greg. What has gotten into you? Come in."

"I just have one thing to ask and you had better tell me the truth," Greg said icily as he stood in the living room. "Have you ever lied to Bianca? _Ever_?"

"Greg, why would I lie to my granddaughter? I love her and would do anything for her!"

"Would you even steal someone else's identity for her? Or maybe you did it for _you_!"

Henry scratched his head. "What _are_ you talking about, Greg?"

"This!" Greg snapped, shoving the DVD at him. "Did you or did you not steal the real Bianca Simone Pierson's identity so you could get out of gambling debts?"

Henry's eyes grew wide. "Where-where did you get this?"

"Was this the same disc you had the day I was over? The one you didn't want me to touch?"

"You-you went _snooping_ through my _things_?" Henry sputtered, his face turning red from anger.

Greg shook his head. "No. Bianca found it by accident. She came over to get the Selective Memory Eraser and it fell off the shelf."

"Why was she getting my Selective Memory Eraser?" Henry asked.

"Because of those stupid pills! Those sleeping pills for Larry and Bianca made them share each other's dreams. Except all the dreams made it seem like Bianca was to blame for everything in his and Balki's lives. So she used it on them to make them forget her."

"Oh, no…no, Bianca," Henry moaned, rubbing his head. "Why did you _do_ that?"

Greg bristled. "So she not only got the Selective Memory Eraser, but that DVD was an added bonus."

Greg watched as the color drained from Henry's face. "So she _watched_ it?"

"No, but she will eventually," Greg barked, snatching the DVD back before Henry could do anything to destroy it. "Unless _you_ tell her the truth yourself."

"Greg, I-I can't do that," he whispered, tears forming in his eyes. "I was stupid and got into trouble so yes; I changed our identities and sent us to the future so no one was the wiser. But Bianca's life is here and now. I can't and I won't ruin that for her. And if you care about her, you'll destroy that DVD and never tell her, either. Please."

"And to think I admired you. You are nothing but a liar and a coward," Greg scoffed. "I won't tell her the truth-for _now._ But don't think I'm going to try and hide this DVD from her, either. I don't play your games."

"Greg, please," Henry choked as he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

"Is he gone?"

Henry continued to stare at the rug on the floor. "Yes."

"About time," the man hissed as he entered the living room, his face almost completely covered by his hood. "So he knows the truth. Is he the only one?"

"He didn't s-say anyone else saw it. Please…just leave it alone."

The man shook his head. "Can't do that. You said no one is to see that DVD and to do whatever it took to make sure Bianca never saw it. No matter what."

Henry buried his face in his hands. "But I never said to _kill_ anyone! Please, just leave it alone. Greg said he wouldn't tell her."

"Yes, but he knows. He also said he wouldn't hide the DVD. Jacob succumbed to his tumor, Alek died in that _terrible_ car explosion, and now it looks as if someone else just got added to the list."

"But Greg is my partner. He takes care of Bianca. She doesn't have her friends anymore to help her."

The man snarled. "Some partner if he's willing to sell you out and not do whatever he can to protect your secrets. Now _I'm_ willing to do whatever it takes to keep the truth hidden. Even if you don't agree. So I suggest you go about the rest of your day as if nothing is wrong. I'm going to make all of this go away for good."

Henry opened his mouth to plead again, but the man was gone. "Oh, what have I _done?_" he asked aloud before falling to his knees, sobbing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Thanks for driving me home, Mr. Bart-Balki."

Balki glanced at Napoleon in the passenger seat and smiled. "Get out of the city! It's no problem-o. You've had a hard day."

It was true. Larry had been running him ragged all day. Napoleon's new shirt had coffee stains, ink stains and even a small blood stain. He had fallen down the stairs, gotten stuck in the elevator and to add salt to the wound, his car wouldn't start. Balki wasn't sure how much more the poor man could take. At least he had convinced Larry that Napoleon was only their personal assistant during work hours. His cousin had wanted to order Napoleon to go _grocery_ shopping for them after work. Balki had to put his foot down on that one, so Larry begrudgingly took his car to the supermarket.

"When does Mr. Wainwright Jr. come back from his surgery?" Napoleon asked.

"I have no idea, but I'm sure it won't be longer than three weeks," Balki replied, hearing a moan from his passenger in response.

"No offense to your cousin, but he is a slave-driver!"

Balki shook his head. "Oh, po-po. Cousin can't drive slaves. Or even _have_ them, because that would be illegal. But I will talk to Cousin about being so hard on you. Sometimes all that authority goes to his neck and he goes over the border."

"Thanks, Balki. I would appreciate that. You turn left at this next street here and I'm in the grey apartments on the right."

Balki smiled and turned left. "Okay. You live here by yourself or does your family live here, too?"

Napoleon gathered his things as Balki turned into the apartment's parking area. "I live by myself but my uncle lives about forty-five minutes away. Thanks again, Balki. You're a life-saver."

"Oh, I love those little fruity candies!" Balki exclaimed as Napoleon exited his car. "Goodnight and sweet dreams!"

As Napoleon waved and Balki watched as he entered his apartment door safely, Balki backed out of the parking space and turned back to go home. "He's such a nice boy. Cousin really should loosen up his grip with him."

* * *

Napoleon entered his dark apartment, thankful to finally be alone and safe.

"It's about time."

Napoleon jumped, dropping his things. Not him. Not now. "How d-did you get in my apartment?"

"Easy. I broke in. And waited. Nice place you got. Now, call your uncle. He has a lot to tell you. But remember; no names," the man said.

"Okay," Napoleon whispered, turning on the light. Not that it mattered to the hooded man sitting in the chair by the door. Barely breathing, he grabbed his home phone and dialed his uncle. After two rings, he picked up.

"Leon! Boy am I glad _you_ called. I have so much to tell you and right now, you are one of the few people I can trust right now," his uncle answered, sounding relieved to see hi name on the Caller ID.

Napoleon glanced at the man in the hood and gulped. This guy was good. Too good. "Uh, hi, Uncle Greg. H-how's your friend Bianca doing? Any better?"

As Greg went into long and vivid details about what was going on, Napoleon hung on every word as if his life depended on it. Because quite frankly, it did.

* * *

Bianca went down the list again to make sure she had gotten all the items. After all, she had been too distracted the first time she had gone shopping. She couldn't stop thinking about how nice it was to have Bryan back in her life. She had barely even thought about Larry and Balki or that dumb DVD Serge had been hounding her to watch. Her main priority was to get home, put up the groceries and then go over to Bryan's place to spend the rest of the evening. "Good. Everything that is on the list is in the cart," she nodded, going to the check-out line. As she waited, she checked out the gossip magazines in the stands and laughed at the blurry picture of the captured Bigfoot.

"Good afternoon. Did you find everything alright?" the middle-aged clerk with a red beehive asked nasally.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks."

"You got a lot of lemons here. You planning to put up a lemonade stand?" the woman queried sarcastically.

"I have a friend who likes lemons," Bianca answered shortly, sliding her credit card in the machine the second the total rang up.

"Well, you're in a hurry," the clerk observed.

"Yes. Yes, I am. Now could you just hand me my bags?"

The clerk sighed. "Sure."

Bianca exhaled as she grabbed her groceries and hurried towards the exit, not watching ahead of her.

Suddenly, she ran into someone, nearly knocking them down. "Oh, I am so sorry. Are you o-" she began but stopped short when the stranger's eyes locked onto hers. It couldn't be!

Larry started to tell the woman to watch where she was going, but when he looked in her eyes, he felt an entirely different emotion wash over him. "I-I'm fine. Don't I know you from somewhere?" he asked, feeling a very strange moment of déjà vu.

The woman looked at him nervously, almost as if she were terrified. "No, no, I don't believe so."

Larry looked at her again. "Are you sure? You seem so familiar to me. Did you go to the _Chicago Chronicle_ newspaper for something?"

"No. I've never seen you before. I'm sorry; I have to go!" the woman replied quickly before running out.

"Well, what's your _name_?" he asked, but he was too late. She had already disappeared. Turning back around, he shook his head. "I _know_ I've met her somewhere before," he whispered. "But where? That's going to drive me crazy." Larry Appleton knew he might not have the greatest memory anymore, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt, he had met that mysterious and beautiful woman before. And he was not going to rest until he knew who she was.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Serge heard her special car as it appeared in the garage and started to make his way there to assist her with the groceries. He didn't expect her to come flying in the house, drop the bags on the floor and look quite so terrified, however.

"Miss Bianca, what is wrong?" he asked, grabbing her by her shoulders and looking into her eyes.

"He saw me…I think he…there's no way…", she sputtered, practically hyperventilating yet looking straight ahead.

"Mr. Greg! We have an anxiety attack on aisle one!" Serge called out before turning his attention back to her. "Miss Bianca, who saw you? Was he a very bad man and did he hurt you? If so, I will-"

"Bianca! Come sit down! What happened?" Greg's voice gushed from behind him.

Serge quickly led her to the sofa and sat on one side of her as Greg sat on the other. "Now spill it. Who did it and what did they do?"

"I was in the store and walking out and I bumped into him. Of all people in all the stores, why did he have to walk into mine?" she asked, still looking off into space.

Greg looked at Serge and shrugged his shoulders. "Who did you run into? Bryan? A stalker? Your grandfather?"

Bianca looked up at him quizzically. "My grandfather? Why would I panic about _that_? No; Larry! I bumped into Larry Appleton!"

"Oh. Did he remember you?" Greg asked hopefully.

Bianca shook her head. "I-I don't think so. He asked if he knew me from somewhere and I panicked and ran off. The Selective Memory Eraser _had_ to have worked."

"So it wasn't anything bad? Oh, good!" Serge exhaled, letting out a squeal of delight.

"No, it was worse than bad, guys! It was horrible! I hoped I would never have to see them again!"

"But, how did your Mr. Larry find his way back here? I thought you left him way, way back in the eighties with the leg-warmers and the Twisted Sisters?" Serge asked, scratching his head.

"Serge, I think she means she bumped into present-day Larry Appleton. Which leads me to the next question: how did he look? Was he all old and wrinkly?" Greg queried.

Bianca stood up. "Guys! Seriously?"

"Yes," Serge and Greg replied in unison.

Bianca sighed. "Fine. His hair was graying and receding and he looked older, okay?"

"And?" Serge pressed.

"And he still looked incredibly handsome," Bianca mumbled before giving them a glare. "So there. Now you know. I have to get ready to meet Bryan. I have to forget Larry Appleton and Balki Bartokomous now and forever!"

Serge opened his mouth to respond, but she was storming up the stairs. "So, it's possible that Mr. Larry Sour Apple remembers her. Or at least had an out of body déjà vu experience," he said finally, turning to Greg.

Greg smiled. "Yep. Best news I've heard in a long time."

* * *

Balki was just taking the ding ding machmud out of the oven when the door burst open and Larry ran inside. "Balki, do you know a woman with shoulder-blade length copper hair, gorgeous blue eyes with perfect skin and a nervous disposition?" he asked urgently.

Balki placed the Myposian dish on the counter and removed his oven mitts. "Cousin, I don't know anyone with snakes in their hair, nor do I _want_ to."

"No, not copper _heads_, Balki! Copper colored hair! Reddish hair!" Larry hissed.

Balki nodded. "Oh, okay. Only person I know with red hair and nervous deposition is Miss Lydia, but she don't have blue eyes and she has freckles."

Larry growled. "I _know_ Lydia, Balki. This woman, though was like a stranger to me, but yet I feel I've known her somewhere before. I need to _think_! I have to figure this out before I forget what she looks like."

"Cousin, have you been bitten by the love slug?" Balki teased as he set out the dishes on the table.

"That's love _bug_, Balki and no. This woman had to be at least twenty-five years younger than me. But I have seen her before and I can't think of _where_ I have seen her."

"Have I seen her, too?"

Larry scratched his head. "Maybe. I'm not sure," he replied before moaning in frustration. "I wish I knew someone who could draw a portrait sketch. I need to remember exactly what she looked like before I forget."

Balki placed a bit of the ding ding machmud on Larry's plate before serving himself a helping. "Cousin, you really are obsessing over this young woman you just met. Are you going through a midwife crisis?"

"No, I am _not_ going through a mid-life crisis, Balki. Now help me think of a good sketch artist!"

"Well, I don't know of one, but I'm sure tomorrow if you ask Napoleon nicely, he might know of-"

Larry snapped his fingers, causing Balki to jump. "A-_ha_! Balki, call Napoleon! Tell him to get here right away. I've seen his little drawings and he is just the person I need to draw my mystery woman!"

Balki sighed. "Okay, Cousin. It's a good thing I made enough ding ding machmud. I couldn't ask Napoleon to draw on an empty stomach."

* * *

Thirty five minutes later, Napoleon knocked timidly on the door. Why couldn't Larry leave him alone? And why did he need to bring his sketch pad and pencils?

Suddenly, the door opened and Balki's smiling face appeared. "Napoleon! It's so good to see you again! Come in, come in! We have dinner all ready for you."

Napoleon entered and looked around. "You didn't have to fix me a plate, Balki. But it smells good."

"Good, then we can throw your serving out. And what took you so long?" Larry Appleton's voice growled.

"I had to take the bus, Mr. Appleton," Napoleon replied, walking over to the kitchen table. "Why did you call me over, anyway?"

"Because Cousin Larry met this woman that he can't get out of his mind, so he need _you_ to draw her," Balki answered.

Larry rolled his eyes. "It's not exactly like that. I met a woman in the store and I could swear I know her from somewhere. I need you to draw her so I can ask people who she is. I have to know!"

Napoleon looked down as Balki put something almost resembling food on his plate. "Oh. Okay. That shouldn't be a problem. Um, Balki? What is this?"

"Ding ding machmud. It's a Myposian dish. Cousin Larry loves it."

"It's an acquired taste," Larry leaned over and whispered. "Just don't ask what's in it."

Napoleon smiled. "Okay."

Suddenly, his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that it was only his uncle. At least he could ignore _that_ call and live to tell about it. Larry already made him jumpy. He wasn't sure if he could handle any more stress.

"Excuse me, Napoleon, but could we skip the social media check so you can eat and draw?" Larry barked.

Napoleon looked at Balki. "Sorry. That was just my Uncle Greg. He-he's helping his boss' granddaughter. She's apparently going through a really hard time right now."

"Oh, well, that's nice of your uncle Greg. What's the name of the young lady he's helping?" Balki asked before taking a bite.

"I think her name is Bianca," Napoleon said before taking a bite, himself.

"Oh, that's a nice name," Balki replied.

"Can we cut the chit-chat and eat? Napoleon has work to do," Larry snarled.

Napoleon looked down, eating his ding-ding whatever and hoping this night would end very quickly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Bianca! You made it! Come in!" Bryan exclaimed happily as she stood at the door of his rented cabin in the woods.

"Yeah, of course. You are kind of out in the middle of nowhere, though, aren't you?" Bianca asked slowly, entering his abode timidly.

"Sorry, but my boss owns this cabin and is letting me rent it because it's fairly close to where he lives. You want something to drink?" Bryan asked, going into the kitchen and looking in his refrigerator. "I have lemon-lime soda, root beer, light beer and ginger ale."

"I'll take root beer," she replied, sitting down on the duck-printed sofa. "So how long are you planning on staying here on the outskirts of Chicago?"

Bryan smiled as he brought her back a can of root beer and opened his light beer. "Not sure," he answered, sitting down beside her. "At least for a month or two. I guess as long as my boss needs me to get the job done. I'm just glad to have someone here close-by. An old friend to reconnect with."

Bianca blushed. "Oh, go on with you," she lightly shoved him, the way she had seen Balki do so many times before in the past.

Bryan scooted closer to her. "No, I'm serious. I really am glad that we found each other after so long." Leaning forward, he reached up to touch her cheek, lips parted in an awaiting kiss.

Bianca closed her eyes, about to meet his lips with her own when they heard a loud crashing noise outside. They jumped back and blushed, both feeling awkward now that the moment had been lost. "Maybe you should go outside and check on that," she replied hoarsely, taking a sip of her root beer.

Bryan stood up and got a flashlight from the kitchen. "I'll be right back."

Bianca smiled brightly. "I'll be right here."

* * *

"Smooth move, Ex-Lax!" Greg hissed at Serge as he stumbled over a garbage can.

"Well excuse me for not being used to riding in Miss Bianca's strange vehicle! I still am unaware if my spine is somewhere over there," he said, pointing to the left," or still inside the car."

Greg grabbed Serge's arm and pulled him behind a large oak tree. "Well, we were _supposed_ to be spying on Bianca and Bryan; not letting them and all woodland critters know we have arrived. Now we have to hide and stay perfectly quiet because Mr. Hot-Shot Former Apprentice is searching for us!"

Serge put his finger in front of his lips and grabbed Greg to duck as a beam from a flashlight shone in their direction. They stayed completely silent for another minute until the footsteps and flashlight beam strayed away from their direction before Serge spoke up. "I'm going to go over there on _that_ side of the cabin and you stay here. If you see or hear anything, just make some sort of noise to let me know someone is coming, okay?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. But be careful this time, will you?"

"I have reunited with my spine, now, so we're good," Serge nodded as he began to slip out from behind the tree and inch towards the cabin again.

Greg watched him go, smirking. "He seriously needs to stick to selling his art pieces and making his espressos. If he didn't care for Bianca, I'd throw him under the proverbial bus. I really would."

Suddenly, he heard a noise that sounded like a thud and a moan. "Serge?" he hissed, slowly exiting his hiding spot. Looking to his right, he saw a man's feet, still inside shoes, poking out from around a group of shrubs. "Those aren't Serge's shoes. Those look more like-"

Before he could get the last word out, he spun around to see a large man wearing an over-sized hoodie standing over him. His face was shrouded by the hood, but Greg clearly saw the gleaming knife blade as the man shoved it in his chest.

Greg stumbled back and fell to the ground, blood covering his black t-shirt. He had to get Serge's attention without the man seeing _him_, too. Knowing there was only one thing he knew he could do, he shakily reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Since he knew Serge was in danger if he moved, Greg had to at least leave him a final message of how to help Bianca. It was up to him now.

* * *

Bianca looked at her watch and glanced out the window again. It was getting pitch black outside, but Bryan still hadn't returned. Sighing, she stood up and took out her phone, using one of her apps that turned it into a makeshift flashlight. As soon as she was outside, the silence caused her to shiver. "Bryan?" she called out, trying to sound brave.

Suddenly, she heard a man's voice cry out in agony and she ran as quickly as she could. "Bryan?"

"M-M-Miss Bianca!" Serge's voice called out, his voice strangled and panicked.

Running to his voice, she shined her phone's light in his face. "Serge? What are _you_ doing here?"

"G-G-Greg," he sputtered, pointing down.

Bianca screamed when she followed his gaze to Greg's lifeless body on the grass by his feet. "Greg? No! No, not Greg! What happened?" she sobbed, clinging to Serge for balance.

"I don't know, but we have to get out of here _now_! It's not safe!"

"But Bryan-he was-where is he?" Bianca stammered.

Suddenly, they heard a noise from behind and Bianca flashed her phone in the direction.

"Ugh!" a man grunted as the light blinded him.

"_Run_!" Serge yelled and Bianca grabbed him by the arm and took off blindly through the woods, hearing the man with the giant hooded sweatshirt run after them.

"This way!" she cried, tugging him as they made a sharp left turn. She didn't dare look back as she and Serge kept running. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that whoever the man was had been the one who murdered Greg and possibly Bryan, but she couldn't let her and Serge fall to that same fate. "Where is the machine?"

"The what?" Serge panted.

"My _car_!" Bianca responded with urgency.

"I think it's this way we are going now!" Serge answered.

Suddenly, Bianca's foot stumbled over a giant root of a nearby tree and she fell forward onto the ground with a thump.

Serge quickly helped her up and they continued running. "You okay?" he asked? "I think I see your car!"

Bianca lunged for the door of the machine and swung it open. As soon as she and Serge were inside and the door was closed, she started pushing buttons.

Serge screamed as the hooded man, now carrying an axe, appeared a few feet away. "_Hurry_!"

Bianca screamed, too, as she saw the man lunge for the machine with the axe as she pressed the power button, not even looking to see the place or time she had entered as she and Serge huddled together, eyes closed and waiting for their death.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Serge opened one eye and looked around. It was a little surreal to him that death didn't hurt. He felt nothing, other than the same nausea he felt when he and Greg took Bianca's special car earlier. "That's odd; I never imagined the afterlife would look like a quaint little apartment."

"Oh, God," Bianca replied, horrified.

"You see _God_? _Where_?" Serge asked, looking around.

"No! This is Balki and Larry's apartment! I must have sent us here by accident! We _have_ to get out of here!"

Serge opened her car door and walked into the living room. "Well, there's nobody here, so why are you so worried? I'm just glad we don't have to tell them about Greg and his untimely death!"

"Serge, get back in here!" Bianca hissed. "We have to leave-_now_! And we can't tell anyone about Greg because they aren't supposed to _remember_!"

Serge turned to her. "Oh, that's right! You erased everything like a little pixie. I forgot."

"Now can you get back in here so we can get the hell out of here?"

Serge continued to walk away from her car and browse the apartment. So this was where Bianca had spent a lot of her time almost thirty years ago? It was small, but somewhat homely. He walked through the kitchen and clicked his tongue as dirty dishes were piled in the sink. "It smells like pig's feet," he complained, wrinkling his nose.

"It's ding ding machmud; now get _back_ here!" Bianca snapped.

Serge left the kitchen and walked past Bianca and her car to the other side of the apartment. "I wonder how small the bedrooms are," he said, turning to face Balki's bedroom. He was just about to turn the doorknob when it turned on its own and the door swung open, revealing one of the tenants staring into Serge's shocked face, both of them crying out in shock and fear.

* * *

"Aaaah!" Balki cried out in unison with the stranger, who stared back at him with the same expression on his face. "You're not Cousin Larry or-"

"We didn't think anyone would be here," the strangely accented man with the big nose replied, backing away.

Balki exited his room to find a strange egg-shaped contraption in the living room. Inside, a woman stood, a horrified expression on her face, partially covered by her hands. "Well, you were wrong. Who are you? If you are the pizza delivery guys, you are at the wrong apartment."

"Pizza delivery guys? How dare you accuse _us_ of such abhorrent professions!"

Balki looked at the woman inside and waved. "Hello! My name is Balki Bartokomous! I like your egg. It reminds me of a show called _Mork and Mindy_. NaNu, NaNu."

The strange man opened the door and practically dragged the woman out. "She's just shy."

Suddenly, Balki gasped, causing the woman to jump. "You look like a woman in a drawing I saw tonight! My Cousin Larry had our friend draw a photo of you, just by using Cousin Larry's brain. I was impressed! Do you know my Cousin Larry Appleton?"

"N-no. I don't. C-Can we just go now? We really didn't mean to bother you," the woman stuttered, looking at the man and backing up into the egg.

"Oh, no; please don't go yet," Balki urged, reaching out for her arm gently. As his hand touched her arm, he felt a light shock go through his body.

Suddenly, images flashed through his mind like someone had quickly flipped pages of a book: the egg-shaped car at the supermarket, singing karaoke, a robot, Cousin Larry lying to Jennifer, Cousin Larry professing his feelings for the woman, a strange ghostly image inside the woman's egg, being in a cell with a man named Greg and a man named Henry, the other stranger holding a bag of groceries, a shooting, strange dreams, the woman crying and holding a strange object…

"_Bianca_!" Balki suddenly cried out, all the images coming together as he recognized her instantly, embracing her tightly. "It's you! It's really _you_!"

Bianca didn't move to return the embrace, but rather looked terrified.

"Oh, Cousin Larry is going to be so _happy_ when he sees that you are here!" Balki continued excitedly.

"You remember her?" the man Balki remembered as Serge asked.

"Well, of _course_ I do; don't be ridiculous! Although I feel as if I had forgotten for a while. But I could never forget you, Bianca!"

"You have to, Balki. You can't tell Larry that you saw me. Understand? You just can't!" Bianca cried out.

Balki stepped back, a shocked look on his face. "But, Bianca, why? You came back to see us, no?"

"No. I came back by accident. Look. You have to promise-no, swear-that you won't tell Larry that you saw me or that I was here. You can't mention my name or Serge's. This has to stay our little secret. Okay?"

"But-but-" Balki stammered. "But why?"

Suddenly, they turned to hear keys jingle right outside the door.

Bianca jerked Serge inside the machine. "Balki, promise me. I was never here. I'm sorry."

Balki opened his mouth to reply, hurt showing in his eyes, but the machine disappeared just as Larry walked into the apartment.

"Balki, who were you talking to?" Larry asked, his face tired and somewhat sad.

Balki looked back where the machine was and then back down, confused and hurt. He didn't want to lie to his cousin, but Bianca seemed so desperate and frightened. "I-I just thought someone was here, but I was wrong. I'm going to bed now, Cousin. Goodnight."

"Well, I guess you should know that this woman Napoleon sketched must be some sort of ghost or she doesn't want to be found. We had absolutely no luck," Larry said, hanging up his jacket in the closet. "Goodnight, Balki."

As Balki entered his bedroom, a single tear fell down his cheek. "Now I remember, Bianca. You _wanted_ us to forget you. But why? Why would you keep such a precious treasure chest of memories away from us for so long?"

* * *

As soon as Bianca and Serge made it back to Greg's house, she practically collapsed onto the floor. So much had happened within the course of a few hours and Bianca's head was beginning to spin. Bryan was missing, Greg had been murdered, she and Serge were on the run from some killer wearing a hoodie and now Balki remembered her.

"Miss Bianca, come and lie down. Actually, I think we both need to lie down," Serge said, pulling out the sofa bed for them.

"I can't believe that Greg is-" Bianca began as she lay down, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Who would do such a terrible thing?"

"I don't know. We thought it might be Bryan, but that man was too big and scary to be him," Serge replied, lying beside her.

"You thought _Bryan_ was the murderer? Why? How?" Bianca gasped. "Bryan would never hurt me!"

"Well, we hoped not, but Greg didn't like him coming back right after everything in your life was falling apart. It seemed 'too convenient', he said," he confessed. "Besides, he worked for your grandfather who was hiding the DVD-which you still have not watched, by the way-from you."

Bianca wiped her face. "Will you quit harassing me about that stupid DVD? I don't care about that right now. All I care about is finding Bryan, finding Greg's murderer and praying that Balki keeps his mouth shut to Larry. Serge, how did my life get so complicated?"

"Well, my life isn't peaches and raspberries, either. Greg and I were both taking care of you. Now that he is gone, I just don't know if I have the strength. My gallery has been shut down for quite some time. If it wasn't for your website, I would be having to get a job selling myself door-to-door."

"Once again, everyone's lives are in shambles-or worse-because of me," Bianca whispered.

"Oh, hold that pitiful thought. My phone is alerting me to a message. I will slap some sense into you after I hear my voice mail," Serge held up a finger as he dialed his voice mail and put it on speakerphone.

"Serge..it's Greg," came the raspy, pained voice. "Listen to me, some strange guy…stabbed me and I don't think I'm…going to make it, but I need you to…listen carefully. You need help…you and Bianca…I have been keeping someone I trust in the know with…everything that has happened. You need to call him. He can…help. He's valid because he's my nephew….he's in my address book….Napoleon Webber…please…call him…and tell…Bianca that I…love her…take care, Serge…".

Bianca and Serge gasped as the phone call ended and seconds later, so did Greg's life.

"Napoleon Webber? Why would we get him involved? Haven't I ruined enough people's lives?" Bianca sobbed.

Serge put a finger to her lips. "You stop feeling sorry for yourself, little missy. I am calling this Napoleon whomever he is because Greg trusts him and therefore, so do I. Maybe he can help us figure out who wants us dead."

Bianca sighed as Serge got up to get Greg's address book. Would this nightmare never _end_?


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

As soon as Napoleon hung up the telephone, he bit his lip and fought the urge to cry. His uncle was dead and now he had to help complete strangers. He already had his hands full with Larry Appleton breathing down his neck. Not to mention all the other trouble he had gotten himself into. "Did you kill him?" he asked the man sitting across from him at the table.

"No. Bryan killed him; I told you that. _Your_ job is to make sure that Bianca never sees that DVD. Or anyone else. If they do, you will have to answer to me and you won't like what happens," the man growled. "Now go over there and play bodyguard," he added with a chuckle.

Napoleon grabbed his jacket and keys and ran out of his apartment, tears stinging his eyes. How did his life get so damn complicated? And what would it take to make things simple again?

* * *

As soon as Napoleon had left, the man picked up the phone and made a call to yet another person he needed to deal with.

"Hello?" the man on the other line asked after the third ring.

"Good evening, Phillip. How are you feeling today?"

"I'm under the weather if you must know. What do you want?"

"Just letting you know that Greg won't be an issue anymore," the man chuckled.

He could almost see Phillip aka Henry bristle from the other end. "You bastard. I _said_ Greg didn't need to die!"

"He was a liability. You wanted this all to go away, did you not? Can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, Phillip. You should know that."

"I also want to know why you used _my_ potion to cause Bianca and her friends from the past to dream the things that they did! What was your purpose for doing that?" Henry barked.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want them to risk learning the truth and having to die, too? I thought I was doing them a favor. I needed there to be distance between them. Bianca did the work for me, though. She erased their memories so even now, they have no idea who she is. Your granddaughter is one smart cookie. Just like her grandfather."

"You shut your mouth," Henry yelled, sending him into a coughing fit. "You touch Bianca and I swear, I'll-"

"You'll do nothing, old man," the man said, chuckling as he hung up the phone. "And pretty soon, the poison will take full effect and I won't have to deal with you giving me orders anymore."

* * *

Larry walked out of the bathroom and audibly gasped as he saw the living room in shambles. DVDs and random items were everywhere, Balki in the middle, pilfering and throwing things off the bookshelves. "Balki, what on Earth?"

Balki ignored him, moving to the closet, rifling through the shelves, tossing out shoes and boxes of baseball cards.

Suddenly, a jacket flew into the air and landed on Larry's face. Larry angrily threw it down and grabbed Balki by the back of his shirt collar, pulling him out of the closet. "Balki! Why…are you destroying the apartment?"

"Oh, hi Cousin. I didn't, uh, see you there. I was wondering; where did we put all of our old VHS tapes?" Balki asked innocently.

"They are in the basement! Why would you want to find an old VHS tape? We don't even have a VCR anymore!"

Balki brushed the dust off his hands. "Well, I was hoping you or I could find the VCR tape and convert it to a DVD at work tomorrow."

"Alright," Larry began slowly, trying not to let his anger show, "Why is it so important to find an old VHS tape and convert it into a DVD?"

"Cousin, I can't explain it right now, but I need to go down into the basement and find a VCR tape. Tonto."

"I think you mean 'pronto', Balki. And okay, we'll go into the basement and find this little movie of yours. What's it called?"

Balki smiled. "Thank you, Cousin. It's called _Bianca's Truth_."

"You made this huge mess all so you could watch one of those sappy Hallmark movies?" Larry asked, both shocked and appalled.

"Cousin, please. I am begging you; I need to find this tape. It is a matter of life, liberty and the pursuit of death."

Larry raised his eyebrow. "Okay, alright. Let's go. I had no idea you took your movies so seriously."

As soon as they took the elevator down into the basement, Larry watched as Balki began urgently searching for the box of old movies. What had gotten into his cousin? "Balki, Balki, calm _down_! I think they're over here," he said, walking over to one of the shelves towards the back of the basement. As he looked and saw the box marked VHS, he stood on his tip-toes to reach it, but it was just too high.

"Cousin, do you need a hand? Or maybe an extra foot?" Balki laughed, slapping his legs. "Where do I come _up_ with them?"

Larry growled. "Cute, Balki. They are up there."

Balki stretched up and grabbed the box gracefully. "Okay. _Bianca's Truth_ , _Bianca's Truth_," he repeated, searching through various titles of old movies from the eighties and nineties.

"Is this it?" Larry asked, pulling a clear VCR case out with a tape inside, reading _Bianca's_ _Truth_ on the sticker.

"Yes! You found it! Oh, Cousin, you don't know how much this means to us!" Balki cried happily. "Now we are so happy, we do the Dance of-"

Larry grabbed him and held him still. "Why does this mean so much to '_us_'? I have no desire to see some sappy romantic movie unless I have a woman with me. And even _then_, I prefer a horror movie."

"Just trust me, Cousin!" Balki replied before dashing back up the stairs.

Larry sighed and put the box on a much lower shelf. "I will never understand him. Not in a million years."

* * *

Serge looked up at the clock on the wall anxiously as he sat beside Bianca on the sofa bed, comforting her. Greg had been absolutely right; there was no way he could do this on his own. He was not only having to watch Bianca, but watch Bryan like a hawk and fear for his own safety, as well. And on top of that, he still had to run his art gallery straight from the website. He just hoped Napoleon would be of some real help. Perhaps he could convince Bianca to at some point watch the DVD. While it was shocking to himself and to Greg, perhaps if Bianca watched it, she would know or realize something that they did not. If only they had been able to bring Balki with them, since he had remembered her. But Bianca had been adamant that he not only be left behind, but that Balki couldn't tell his roommate and the former love of her life about her being there.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and Serge jumped up. "That must be Greg's nephew now."

"I don't want to see him. I don't want to see anyone," Bianca replied sadly.

"Oh, come now; no need for dramatics," he grunted, pulling her up. "I'll go to the door and let him in. Be nice to him. For Greg."

As Serge opened the door, a smile tugged at his lips. The man standing there somewhat _resembled_ Greg. Tall, with the same unkempt brown hair, but the man before him looked slightly malnourished and thin. "Hello. You must be-"

"Napoleon," the man replied, shaking Serge's hand. "And you must be Serge. Greg told me your accent was…something else."

Serge smiled and motioned for him to come in. "I am sorry for your uncle's death. It was awful! Would you like something to drink? I make it myself."

Napoleon shook his head. "No, thanks."

"Bianca, say hello to Greg's nephew Napoleon," Serge pressed, noticing that Bianca hadn't even turned around to acknowledge him.

Slowly, Bianca turned around, her face red from where she had been crying. "Hello, Napoleon. Nice to meet you."

Suddenly, Serge could feel Napoleon tense up and he saw the young man's eyes grow wide in surprise and shock. "You!" he cried out. "You were the woman that-"

"She was the woman that what, Napoleon?" Serge asked, feeling slightly unnerved.

"She was the woman that…Greg mentioned so many times. It's nice to…finally meet you," Napoleon replied.

Serge looked at him, eyebrow raised. He wasn't sure he bought that excuse, but he would have to ask about it later. First, he had to make sure Napoleon was up to speed on everything that had happened. And he knew that could take a while in itself.


End file.
